


In the Dark I Wait

by skieswideopen



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Forced Proximity, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3777466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skieswideopen/pseuds/skieswideopen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy and Daniel get some quality time together courtesy of another Howard Stark invention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dark I Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moriann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriann/gifts).



Peggy discreetly shifted her weight from foot to foot, silently cursing her earlier run-in with a pipe-wielding suspect and wishing rather desperately for either the sudden appearance of a few more chairs in the room, or a swift ending to Thompson's briefing. Sadly, neither of those things seemed to be forthcoming.  
   
She felt a whisper of movement beside her as Sousa leaned closer. "Is it just me, or have his briefings gotten twice as long since he took over as chief?" he asked in a low voice.  
   
Peggy glanced over at him, letting her mouth quirk into a hint of a smile that died when she caught Sousa adjusting his crutch with a wince of pain. She felt a rush of anger toward the agents comfortably ensconced in their seats while Sousa was left standing. If she was in pain from a bruised shin, she could only imagine how he felt.  
   
He wouldn't appreciate pity, of course, any more than she would in his place, so she shifted her gaze back to Thompson and focused her attention on the briefing.  
   
"We have to move carefully here," Thompson was saying. "Holland is friends with half the judges and politicians in the state, and he has the other half tucked away in his back pocket."  
   
Peggy thought idly that Thompson rather resembled a bloodhound that had just scented a particularly promising trail--a little surprising given the prominence of the man they were after, and the risks inherent in such a pursuit. On the other hand, when one considered Thompson's love of cameras and the media attention the case was likely to garner if they were successful, perhaps it made sense.  
   
"If anyone gets wind of this before we have solid evidence, they'll shut down this investigation so fast your heads will be staring down at your asses," Thompson continued. "That means no official visits, no interrogations, and nothing that calls for a warrant. This guy has to be handled with kid gloves, you understand?" He waited for a wave of nods before adding, "The first thing we need to do is collect some evidence, and to do that, we need to get inside his house. Fortunately, Holland's holding a shindig for some political bigwigs at his place tonight, and we're going to attend. Well, Sousa and Carter are, anyway."  
   
Peggy squared her shoulders as heads turned and eyes snapped toward her from around the room, taking care to conceal her surprise. Thompson had finally begun allowing her to participate in field operations after the incident with Ivchenko--mostly surveillance operations and questioning the occasional witness--but this was the first time he'd offered her anything challenging. From the expressions of the men around her, she wasn't the only one shocked by this announcement.  
   
Thompson opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a harsh scraping sound. One of the newer agents--Wright, Peggy recalled--pushed back his chair and half-stood, his face twisted in an unbecoming mix of outrage and disbelief. "The biggest case we've had since Stark, and you're seriously planning to send in a cripple and a broad for this?"  
   
Beside her, Peggy could feel Sousa stiffen. She let her hand drift back to brush against his arm, a gentle restraint, and waited curiously for Thompson's response.  
   
Thompson crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, letting his gaze rest heavily on Wright until Wright reluctantly sat down again. "Who do you suggest I send in?" Thompson asked. "You?" He snorted. "Holland would peg you as a G-Man in a minute. You wouldn't even get through the door. But a wounded war hero with a good-looking dame on his arm? Holland will never suspect a thing."  
   
"Getting in the door doesn't help if you can't deliver the goods," Wright protested.  
   
"You let me worry about that," Thompson said. "Anyway, it's just a recon mission. Get in, get the intel, and get out. A chimpanzee could do it."  
   
"And here I almost Thompson finally had some faith in us," Sousa whispered dryly.  
   
Peggy hid a smile. "Perhaps one day."  
   
"Yeah, and maybe one day pigs will learn to fly and man will walk on the moon."  
   
"You can't go after a guy like Holland based on rumours," Thompson added. "But once we have evidence that he's using his connections to steal military technology and selling it overseas, we can open a full investigation." He looked back at Wright. "Don't worry, Agent. You'll get your chance."  
   
"Unless we get him first," Sousa said to Peggy.  
   
Thompson gave them a sharp look. "Did you have something to contribute, Agent Sousa?"  
   
"Just wondering why we're searching Holland's house rather than his office."  
   
"We've already searched Holland's office," Thompson said. "We have a man on the inside and he assures us there's nothing there. Whatever Holland's doing, he has to be running it from home." He looked around the room. "Any other questions? No? Then get to work on figuring out where Holland's been and who he's been talking to. Carter and Sousa, you'd better go get dressed and figure out your covers. You've got a party to go to."  
   
***  
   
Peggy slipped her hand through Sousa's arm as they entered Holland's house. She had to admit to a certain gratitude that she'd been partnered with Sousa rather than any of the other SSR agents. While she was unquestionably capable of successfully feigning infatuation with just about anyone if the job required it, it was far less work when she was with someone she actually liked.  
   
"Thompson must have pulled quite the set of strings to procure us this invitation," she said, looking around at the crowd of notable figures surrounding them.  
   
"Thompson's a jerk, but he knows his stuff," Sousa replied as they made their way through the crowd. He'd exchanged his usual sweater vest and sport coat for a dinner jacket that had clearly been purchased ready-made, a rather marked contrast to the tailored formal wear of the majority of the men around them. Peggy judged it a good fit for his cover as a veteran whose presence was the result of his war record rather than his post-war financial success.  
   
"Yes, he does," Peggy agreed. Off-the-rack or not, formal attire suited Sousa, she decided, and then squelched the thought immediately. She'd had to do that a few times recently. Perhaps Angie was right and she really did need to work on her social life. Focus on the job at hand, Peggy told herself firmly. "Mr. Holland is over there," she said, nodding at a tall figure in the centre of the room. "Shall we go introduce ourselves, and then split up and see what we can find?"  
   
"Yes, ma'am. Whatever you say."  
   
They fell into an easy rhythm, circulating through the crowd running out their cover story while making as little impression as possible. Carter liked working with Sousa; he was quick enough to follow her lead, competent enough to take the lead himself, and perfectly willing to take turns at it.  
   
When they finally reached their host, Charles Holland greeted them with a warm, professional smile that did an excellent job of covering the quick once-over he gave them. Peggy was willing to bet he'd taken in both Sousa's lack of fine tailoring and her own deliberately unremarkable dress, and had hopefully already dismissed as insignificant.  
   
"Ned Reed," Sousa said. "This is Miss Mary Green."  
   
"Of course, of course," Holland said, shaking first Peggy's hand and then Sousa's. "I heard all about you from Senator Ives. It's a pleasure having a hero like you here. Especially when you bring such a beauty with you."  
   
"You're very sweet," said Peggy in her best Brooklyn accent, "but I hardly think I compare with the other ladies here. Your wife, for example, looks absolutely stunning."  
   
"I'm sure she'd say the same about you," Holland said graciously.  
   
Apparently their covers had held, because Peggy saw Holland subtly glance at the people coming up behind him, already moving on mentally.  
   
"Have a good evening, folks," Holland said sincerely. "Enjoy the party."  
   
"Oh, we will," Peggy assured him.  
   
"What do you think?" Sousa asked quietly as Holland turned to his next guest.  
   
"I think he's preparing for a political career, and that he's likely to be successful if he runs," Peggy said. "But I have no idea whether he's a traitor. Thompson is right. We need evidence."  
   
"Agreed," Sousa said. "What do you say you take upstairs and I take the cellar?"  
   
"I say I'll meet you back here in twenty minutes."  
   
It took her less than ten minutes to slip upstairs undetected and determine that Holland wasn't hiding anything significant on the upper floors. At least not unless there was a hidden panel behind the distinctly feminine floral wallpaper. She searched the master bedroom thoroughly anyway, then went down to join Sousa in the cellar.  
   
"Ned?" she called softly, picking her way carefully down the dark staircase. Once at the bottom, she pulled out a small torch and began looking around. "Ned?" she called again.  
   
"Over here."  
   
She followed the sound of his voice down a short hallway to a small room at the back of the cellar.  
   
"Look what I found," Sousa said, turning to face her.  
   
Peggy shone her light across the walls, revealing row after row of books. "Odd place for a library," she said.  
   
"What's even odder is that we're missing a whole lot of space," Sousa said. "According to the plans for the house, the cellar ought to extend out a good six feet further, but I don't see a door."  
   
"That is curious," Peggy agreed. She stepped up to the bookcase on the wall Sousa had pointed out and examined it carefully. Running her fingers along the bottom of one shelf, she found what she was looking for--a small switch. She flipped it, and a section of shelves smoothly swung open. "I believe that's our door."  
   
"Nice job," Sousa said appreciatively. He stepped into the doorway and shone his light into the space behind the hidden door.  
   
"Mr. Holland appears to have a private office," Peggy said, stepping inside and flipping on the light. "I'll take the desk, you take the filing cabinet."  
   
She bent over the desk as Sousa began pulling out drawers. At first glance, it didn't look very promising; the top was bare, and the drawers held an array of office supplies and little else. Closer examination revealed that the second drawer had a false bottom. Beneath it, Peggy found a large appointment book. She pulled it out and flipped it open, wishing she'd been able to sneak in a camera under her dress. Without one conveniently on hand, she pulled out the paper she had managed to bring with her, and began copying down Holland's appointments for the next few days. There weren't many, and none of them included names--just initials and the odd number. Nothing incriminating in itself, but perhaps if they followed him, he'd incriminate himself. "How are you doing?" she asked Sousa without looking up.  
   
"Oh, I'd say our boy is definitely into _something_ ," Sousa replied. "Lots of blueprints over here. And some other weird stuff too. What do you think these are?" He held up an odd-looking pair of silver-blue rings linked together.  
   
"I have no idea," Peggy replied, abandoning the appointment book for a closer look. Sousa handed her the rings, and she examined them closely. For a moment she thought she could detect a faint glow, but it rapidly disappeared. "I've never seen anything like them," she said, handing them back. "If we could take them with us, we could ask Howard."  
   
"Thompson probably wouldn't approve of that," Sousa said, setting the rings back in the drawer.  
   
"Mr. Holland might notice their absence," Peggy agreed, returning to the desk. She made a final few notes and returned the book to its hiding place, then folded her paper and slipped it into the compact in her evening bag. "Nearly ready to go?"  
   
"Yeah," Sousa said, "just a--" He stopped as a voice drifted in from the hallway. He and Peggy exchanged looks, then he slid the remaining papers back into the filing cabinet and closed the drawer. The two of them slipped out of the hidden room, and Peggy flipped the switch to close the hidden door. The voices grew louder.  
   
"We'd have to go past them to make it upstairs," Sousa whispered. "We can't--"  
   
"I know," Peggy said. The speakers were clearly heading toward them, and there was nowhere in the small library to hide. "I think we'd better provide them with an excuse for our presence here."  
   
She stepped closer to Sousa and reached up, tugging his head downward. He caught on immediately, his free hand slipping around her waist as his lips met hers. Peggy slid both hands around his neck and tilted her head back a little further, warmth flooding through her as he took advantage of the new angle to deepen the kiss. Work, Peggy reminded herself. This was just work. She took another step closer, pressing herself up against him-- verisimilitude, she told herself--and then realized that Sousa was engaging in some verisimilitude of his own. He shifted quickly position so that she was pressed against his thigh instead. She let him, focusing on keeping up the kiss.  
   
They were convincingly flushed and breathless by the time the lights came on in the room. They broke apart immediately, turning to face Holland and his companion: a short, blond man Peggy recognized from the party, though she hadn't caught his name.  
   
"Oh my goodness," Peggy said, shifting her accent back to Brooklyn. "I am _so sorry_ , Mr. Holland. I've never been in such a grand house, and I wanted to take a look around, and then, well, we got distracted."  
   
Holland didn't look particularly mollified by the apology. "This is a respectable house," he said coldly.  
   
"Of course, sir," Sousa said, looking appropriately embarrassed as he touched Peggy's arm protectively. "We'll leave now. Thank you for having us."  
   
"Wait here a minute," Holland said. "I'll have someone escort you out."  
   
"Oh, you don't have to do that," Peggy protested, doing her best to project innocent mortification. She didn't really care if they were escorted out or not, as long as they were allowed to leave, but she was concerned that if they tarried too long, Holland might think to search her bag.  
   
"I insist," Holland said, and reached for a bell pull to call a servant.  
   
They waited in awkward silence--Holland having apparently decided not to introduce them to his other guest--until they heard footsteps outside of the room. Peggy turned to the door with relief, grateful that she wouldn't have to explain to Thompson how they'd allowed themselves to be discovered, and then felt a wave of dismay when the expected servant appeared in the doorway proceeded by the entirely unexpected Agent Wright.  
   
"I caught him trying to climb in a first-floor window," the servant said. He was a large man whose scars and demeanour were more suggestive of henchman than footman, an analysis further supported by the steadiness of his hand as he kept his gun aimed at Wright's back.  
   
"Two sets of people in places they shouldn't be in one night." Holland looked thoughtful. "What are the odds? Perhaps I'd better have a look inside your bag, Miss Green."  
   
"Certainly not!" Peggy clutched her bag closer to her chest. "And how dare you suggest we're affiliated with this...this common burglar?" She glared at Wright, willing him to keep his mouth shut and accept the charge. As long as they all got away from Holland, Thompson could bail him out later. If he felt like doing so after Wright's little display of initiative.  
   
"Look," Sousa said, "we're really sorry for...you know. We know we shouldn't have come down here, but we just wanted to look around. If you let us go, we promise we won't bother you again."  
   
"I don't--" Holland began. That was the moment when Wright apparently saw his chance. He swung around, grabbing for the servant's gun. Peggy ducked, pulling Sousa with her as the gun went off, a bullet flying through the air where they'd been standing. She started to get up to help Wright, cursing him for a fool under her breath as she did, but before she could reach him, the gun went off a second time and Wright collapsed. 

"I think you should stay where you are, Miss Green," Holland said. He'd apparently been carrying a sidearm of his own, and he now had it trained on Peggy and Sousa.  
   
"They'll have heard that upstairs," Peggy said calmly, sitting down again. She saw Wright twitch as the servant knelt over him. "They'll be down to investigate in a moment." The blond man, she noticed, had disappeared out the door the moment the right began.  
   
"Sir," said the servant. He held up Wright's SSR ID. "He's a government agent."  
   
"Well, now," Holland said, examining the badge. "That is interesting." He looked back to Peggy and Sousa. "I don't suppose you'd admit to it if you were with him, so I’m just going to assume that you are. It would be exactly like Ives to play along with that kind of thing."  
   
"Killing us won't help you," Peggy said.  
   
"Oh, I'm not going to kill you," Holland assured her. He turned back to his servant. "Tie them up and dump the badge. You can come back and let them go after the party's over. I have some things to do."  
   
"You can't just leave us here," Sousa protested. "That guy will die without a doctor."  
   
Holland glanced down at the moaning Wright calculatingly. "Move him back upstairs," he instructed his servant. "Then call the police and tell them you caught a burglar. Keep these two down here and don't let them go until the rest of the guests are gone." He smiled at Carter and Sousa as the servant left the room. "You'll find the cellar is quite well insulated. No one will have heard the gun, and no one will hear you, no matter how much noise you make."  
   
The servant returned a moment later with some rope which he used to secure both Carter and Sousa while Holland looked on, gun in hand. A second man appeared shortly afterward to help carry Wright, now apparently unconscious, back upstairs.  
   
"It's a pity you didn't get to enjoy the rest of the party," Holland said. "I don't imagine you get to attend this sort of affair very often on your salaries." He flipped off the lights and headed back toward the stairs.  
   
Peggy began working on the ropes immediately. "We have to get out of here."  
   
"I know," Sousa said, clearly doing the same. "He's going to destroy whatever evidence is out there. I think I can--"  
   
"I'm free," Peggy said, dropping the ropes that had bound her hands. She set to work on her feet, then untied Sousa's feet while he finished working his hands free.  
   
"Someone sure doesn't know how to tie people up," Sousa said, shaking off the ropes.  
   
"I have a feeling they usually just shoot them instead," Peggy said. She felt her way over to the door and flipped on the light, then cast a look around the room for Sousa's crutch.  
   
"Just go," Sousa said, pulling himself up on a chair. "We both know I'll never be able to catch him. You figure out where Holland's gone, and I'll see if I can go find Wright."  
   
"Right," Peggy said. She sprinted out the door, heading for the stairs. She was nearly there when she heard Sousa scream horribly. She raced back to the library, where Sousa was sitting pale-faced on the floor. "What happened? Are you alright?"  
   
"Yeah," he said. "I don't know what happened. One minute I'm fine, the next I'm down on the floor in the worst pain I've experienced since…" He trailed off and nodded meaningful toward his missing leg.  
   
"We'd better leave together," Peggy said, gathering up Sousa's crutch. "I'll help you--"  
   
"No," Sousa said firmly, pulling himself up again and holding out a hand for his crutch. "I'm fine. You go. You might still have time to catch Holland."  
   
"Are you sure?" Peggy asked.  
   
He nodded and gripped his crutch tightly. "Go."  
   
She headed toward the stairs again, and this time made it as far as the first step before Sousa started screaming.  
   
"Okay, something's wrong," he said, panting. "Every time you leave--"  
   
"You end up in pain," Peggy finished.  
   
He nodded, still pale. "Maybe Holland did something to us. Made it so we can't be apart."  
   
"Or maybe we did it ourselves," Peggy said, thinking back to their earlier investigation. She slipped past Sousa, flipped open the secret door again, and went straight to the filing cabinet. The rings were where Sousa had left them, and she held them up, remembering the earlier glow.  
   
"Oh God, you don't think--"  
   
"I don't know," Peggy said, slipping the rings into her bag. "But since Holland already knows we're onto him, we might as well take these with us and see what Howard has to say. Maybe they'll serve as some sort of evidence."  
   
"We can always hope," Sousa said.  
   
   
***  
   
"You're joking," Peggy said.  
   
Jarvis at least had the good grace to look apologetic. "I'm afraid not."  
   
She looked down at the rings on the desk in front of them. "There's no way to de-activate them?"

"I’m afraid Mr. Stark was unable to find a reliable way to counteract the effect. Apart from time, of course. It will eventually wear off."

"And until then, if Agent Sousa and I separate by more than a few feet--"  
   
"I end up on the floor," Sousa finished.  
   
"I believe the range is around ten feet," Jarvis offered helpfully.  
   
"What on earth possessed Howard to create such a device?" Peggy asked.  
   
"It was intended for guards escorting dangerous prisoners. The two would be linked, and then if the prisoner tried to escape, they'd find themselves...incapacitated."  
   
"I'll say," Sousa said, looking pained at the mere memory.

"Mr. Stark thought that this would be more effective than physical restraints, which are vulnerable to being removed."  
   
"So how long, exactly, is this effect going to last?" Peggy asked.  
   
"It was originally intended to last for only six hours or so--long enough to get most prisoners where they needed to go--but unfortunately--"  
   
"Let me guess," Sousa interrupted. "It didn't work quite the way he hoped."  
   
"The timing proved...unpredictable," Jarvis admitted. "But it's never lasted longer than forty-eight hours."  
   
"So they're stuck together for the next two days," Thompson said.  
   
"That would seem to be the case, yes," Jarvis said. "Possibly a little less."  
   
Wallace, listening in from the next desk, snorted. "Guess that gives you two days, Sousa," he said. "You know, there are guys here who would--"  
   
"That's enough," Sousa interrupted.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," Wallace said.  
   
Thompson looked at Peggy and Sousa. "Go home. Get some rest. You both look like you need it. We'll start tracking Holland again tomorrow."  
   
"Sir," Peggy said, standing up, "we can--"  
   
"Go home, Carter," Thompson interrupted. "We've got plenty of agents covering every place Holland is likely to go. We can spare you for a few hours. Besides, you're a little overdressed for chasing down suspects."  
   
Peggy glanced down--miracles of miracles, the dress had survived the night--and nodded resignedly. "Very well."  
   
"I expect you both to be back here bright and early tomorrow morning," Thompson added.  
   
"Yes, sir," Sousa said, standing up.  
   
Thompson nodded and turned toward his office, then looked back and said, "You two did good work tonight."  
   
"You mean, apart from the bit where we let the bad guy get away," Peggy said.  
   
"Your orders were to collect intel," Thompson said. "It's not your fault that Wright decided to interfere."  
   
"How is Agent Wright?" Peggy asked.  
   
"Last I heard, he was still alive," Thompson said shortly, and closed his door.  
   
"Wow," Sousa said when Thompson was gone. "We'd better watch for flying pigs on the way home."  
   
"Indeed," Peggy agreed. She really was bone tired, she realized. And in need of a warm bath.  
   
"Speaking of home," Sousa said, and then hesitated.  
   
Peggy looked up at him. "Yes?"  
   
"I don't...I can't really bring you to my rooming house."  
   
"No, of course not," Peggy agreed. And of course they'd have to go home to the same place tonight. Possibly tomorrow night as well. She really was fortunate that it had been Sousa at Holland's house with her and not someone less...tolerable.  
   
"We could go to a hotel," he offered. "Pretend to be married. I mean, obviously, we'd have separate beds," he added in a rush.  
   
She found his concern rather touching. "That won't be necessary," she said crisply. "You can come home with me." Her landlord was hardly likely to object, after all.  
   
***  
   
Sousa gave a low whistle as they stepped out of the taxi. "This is where you live?"  
   
"It belongs to Howard Stark," Peggy said. "He lets me stay here as an expression of gratitude. And because he helped contribute to the destruction of my last residence."  
   
"I didn't realize Stark was capable of gratitude," Sousa said.  
   
"It surprised me too." Peggy led the way up the path. "I should warn you, I have a roommate. Angie. I believe you met her before."  
   
"Sure," Sousa said. "I remember her. She's the one who put on that act so we wouldn't find you."  
   
"She's a good friend," Peggy said, opening the door and gesturing Sousa inside.  
   
"Someone's late tonight," Angie said, coming down the stairs. She stopped at the living room entrance when she spotted Sousa, eyes widening. "Sorry, Peg, I didn't realize you were bringing home a guest." Her expression turned appreciative as she looked Sousa over. Sousa looked awkwardly between the two of them, clearly aware of the most obvious explanation for his presence.  
   
"It's not what it looks like," Peggy said, and then sighed at the sight of Angie's knowing grin. Clearly there was a future conversation coming. She tried to at least delay it with introductions, the better to seem as if this were merely an everyday occurrence. "Angie Martinelli, Daniel Sousa."  
   
"Sousa. I remember you," Angie said, leaning against the doorjamb.  
   
"Likewise," Sousa said. "It's good to see you again."  
   
"You finally figured out that Peggy's no traitor, huh?"  
   
"There was a lot of evidence against me at the time," Peggy said smoothly. "And Agent Sousa was only following orders."  
   
"Sure," Angie said. "Whatever you say, English."  
   
Peggy sagged a little as another wave of exhaustion hit, and thought that perhaps she might skip the bath and head straight to bed. This was a fight that could wait for another day, she decided. "It was a long day," she said, deliberately taking Sousa's free arm. "And we have to be back in early tomorrow. If you'll excuse us, Angie..."  
   
"Of course," Angie said, grin returning as she eyed Peggy's grip on Sousa's arm. "You two have yourselves a good night."  
   
"It's fine," Peggy said before Sousa could start apologizing for the damage to her reputation. "Angie isn't going to judge, and she isn't going to tell anyone you were here. Plus it's easier than trying to explain the real reason I brought you home."  
   
"I suppose it could be tough explaining how we ended up the victims of another Howard Stark invention," Sousa admitted. He looked around the ornate living room. "So I'm guessing in a place like this, you have a spare bedroom?"  
   
"Six of them," Peggy said. "I'm sure we can...oh no."  
   
"What?"  
   
"It's just...Mr. Jarvis said ten feet, and I'm not sure it will be possible for us to get into separate rooms without going further apart than that. It might be technically possible, but the timing..."  
   
Sousa grimaced. "I guess you escort me to bed in the room closest to yours, then head off to your own room. As long as we're on opposite sides of the same wall, we should be okay for the night."  
   
Peggy shook her head firmly. "I'm not going to put you through another minute of that agony unnecessarily." She could still hear his screams from earlier that evening. It wasn't an experience she cared to repeat. "We have six spare beds, and the rooms are quite large. I'm sure we can make reasonable arrangements."  
   
A half-hour later, they were both safely tucked into separate beds within the ten-foot limit.  
   
"Peggy..." Sousa's voice sounded loud in the dark.  
   
"Yes?"  
   
"I'm sorry."  
   
"For what?"  
   
"For letting Holland get away. And for...anything else that might have made you uncomfortable."  
   
"As even Jack Thompson agreed, Holland getting away was Wright's fault, not yours. And why on earth would you think you'd made me uncomfortable?"  
   
"If I hadn't been...if I'd been able to keep up, we could have caught Holland."

"You're hardly responsible for that, and it's nothing you need to apologize for," Peggy said crisply. "You could just as well say that if I hadn't touched the device after you pulled it out, we would never have been linked together in the first place."

"Or if I'd just left it alone."

"If either of us were less curious than we are, I doubt we'd make very good agents," Peggy said. "We were doing our jobs. And if we keep doing those jobs well, eventually we'll catch Holland." 

"Yeah, well, it wasn't all professional today," Sousa said. 

"What do you mean?"

"You know, in the library," he said, sounding embarrassed. "I shouldn't have...especially after what Wallace said, I don't want you to think--"

Ah. Verisimilitude. "What? That you plan to spend the next two days trying to get me into bed, or whatever it is he thinks is going to happen? Don't worry; I don't hold you responsible for anything that Butch Wallace says or thinks. When he bothers to think at all, which in my experience is rather rarely. As for the library, I thought it was a rather nice kiss as kisses go. And it certainly served its purpose--or would have, if Wright hadn't intervened." 

She carefully avoided mentioning anything else about the incident. The body reacted sometimes, despite one's best intentions. Every professional knew that. And if she suspected that there was a little more to it in Sousa's case, well, she wasn't worried he'd try to take advantage of the situation. It wasn't his style, not when she'd already turned him down. Besides, in different circumstances, she might have been tempted to take things a little further herself.

That was a dangerous line of thought, she decided. Best to move on to other, less risky topics. "As for your leg...Daniel, we all have limitations. But I can tell you honestly that I would rather have you by my side in a dangerous situation than any other agent at the SSR."  
   
"That's nice of you to say."  
   
"I mean it," Peggy said, propping herself up so she could look over in his direction. "You know how to handle yourself, and you trust me to handle myself, which is more than I can say for most of the men we work with. And speaking of your leg, do you normally sleep in your prosthetic?"  
   
"No," Sousa admitted. "I just...I don't usually take it off in front of other people."  
   
"Well, it's quite dark in here," Peggy said. "I'm hardly likely to see anything if you do remove it."  
   
"Right," Sousa said.  
   
He was still a moment, and then she heard the sheets rustle as he sat up and leaned over, hands busy with whatever straps kept the prosthetic in place.  
   
Peggy leaned back and closed her eyes. It wasn't the first time she'd slept in close quarters with a man, but it had been a long time since she'd done so outside of the confines of a battlefield, and she was suddenly, acutely aware that she could almost touch him if she reached out. That they would touch if he reached out at the same time.  
   
She rolled over, facing away from Sousa, and closed her eyes.  

Two nights. All she had to do was not reach out.  
   
***  
   
The next day proved long and fruitless. Holland, according to the agents on the scene, had returned to his house from locations unknown around dawn. After that, he'd followed his normal schedule with absolutely no suspicious deviations. He hadn't gone to any of the appointments Carter had painstakingly copied from the appointment book, and the agents on surveillance duty at the meeting locations hadn't noticed anyone suspicious there. Holland had apparently somehow managed to get word out to everyone during the previous night.  
   
"He has to slip up sooner or later," Thompson said grimly. "If he's going to run his business, he has to meet with people."  
   
Sousa looked up from the business reports he was reviewing. "Yeah, right after he gets us ordered off the case."  
   
"I'm surprised he hasn't done so already," Peggy said.  
   
"I have our guys hanging back some," Thompson said. "Didn't want to spook him more than he's already been spooked. Plus, I figure he's probably going to give us a few days. It'll make for a better complaint that way."  
   
"Giving us enough rope to hang ourselves with," Sousa said.  
   
"Unless we tie him up first," Peggy said, tackling the map she was working on with renewed vigor. There had to be some pattern to Holland's meetings, if she only could just find it.  
   
"I'm going to head out to Holland's next scheduled meeting location," Thompson said. "See if I spot something our guys are missing. You two hold down the fort."  
   
"It's not like we can go anywhere," Sousa said, waving him off.  
   
That was perhaps the most frustrating part of all. Peggy knew full well the importance of paper trails and painstaking research, but she ached to be out in the field with the rest of the agents, as she was sure Sousa did too, and this time, there was no way to sneak off. As they'd discovered that morning, even moving around in a house made it easy to forget the ten-foot restriction. Outside it would be impossible.  
   
"At least it's temporary," Sousa said, catching her expression. "It's not like you're chained to me for life."  
   
"There's no one else I'd rather be chained too." Which was true, at least as far as SSR agents went. If she'd spent the past eighteen hours unable to move more than ten feet from anyone else, she might well have shot them by now. Or at least knocked them unconscious.  
   
Sousa laughed, but Peggy thought she detected a thread of bitterness beneath it. "I'm sure you love being chained to the guy with a missing leg."  
   
"Daniel, as I told you last night--"  
   
"That's not what I meant," he said, cutting her off, and then sighed. "I'm sorry, Peggy. I shouldn't have said that. I'm going to…" He looked around, clearly seeking an escape before remembering that no escape was possible. "I'm going to finish these reports," he said instead, bending his head over the stack of papers on his desk.  
   
Peggy watched him for a moment, then got up from her desk--now pushed up against his to minimize the distance--and walked around so they were both on the same side. "You asked me out for a drink once."  
   
He glanced up at her, but said nothing.  
   
"I said no," she continued.  
   
"I shouldn't have asked," he said. "I know how you felt about Steve Rogers, and it wasn't fair to expect--"  
   
"I didn't turn you down because of Steve," she interrupted. "And I didn't turn you down because of your leg. Or because of anything about _you_." She paused, torn between protecting her privacy--such deeply ingrained habits there--and not wanting him to go through the rest of his life feeling like he was unworthy. "Daniel," she said at last, "it's not that I couldn't fall in love with you--I could. It's that I can't afford to fall in love with you. I can't...Thompson and the others have only just begun taking me seriously. If you and I were together...we both know I'd never be allowed to stay."  
   
Sousa had looked up as she spoke. "I guess I didn't really think about that," he said slowly, finally meeting her eye. "I wasn't...I wasn't expecting you to quit the SSR for me, Peggy. You know that, right?"  
   
"I know," she said. And she did. She'd never imagined that Sousa's long-term plans included her as a housewife. "It doesn't occur to you to think about these things because you don't have to. But _I_ do."  
   
"I'm sorry."  
   
"Don't be," she said. "You don't make the rules. And if you ever want to have a drink as friends…"  
   
"I'd like that."  
   
"Excellent. After we catch Holland?"  
   
He smiled at that. "Definitely."  
   
As it turned out, it didn't take two nights for the effects of Stark's machine to wear off. A night and a day were enough as they discovered when Peggy forgot and headed for the ladies' room, only to turn around apologetically some twelve feet from Sousa, and realize that he hadn't even noticed her absence.  
   
"It was a nice twenty-four hours with you," Peggy said as they prepared to head to their separate abodes.  
   
"See you tomorrow?" Sousa said.  
   
"Count on it."  
   
Peggy felt oddly lonely walking home. It was ridiculous, she told herself sternly. They'd spent twenty-four hours together. Well, forty-eight if you included the previous day of work. That was hardly sufficient time to start missing him when they'd only be apart a single night. That was sheer foolishness. Nonetheless, she was grateful to arrive home and find Angie there taking advantage of their cook's stated love of a challenge.  
   
"Long day, Peggy?" she asked when Peggy collapsed onto a chair across from her at the table.  
   
"You could say that."  
   
"So where's your friend, Agent Sousa?"  
   
"At his own home tonight," Peggy said. "There some issues with the plumbing yesterday, but they've been taken care of." She'd decided that was the simplest explanation to offer Angie. Certainly it was easier than trying to explain another of Howard Stark's miracle inventions.  
   
"Plumbing," Angie repeated skeptically. "Sure."  
   
Or perhaps the truth would have been better.  
   
"I can assure you there's nothing untoward going on between Daniel and myself," Peggy said. "We're merely friends and colleagues."  
   
"Why?" Angie asked. She scooped up some more soup. "I mean, it's clear he's crazy about you. And he looked like a pretty good catch to me. You know, if you can get past the part where he once arrested you."  
   
"He did have a reason for that," Peggy said.  
   
Angie grinned. "Funny how you always defend him when I bring that up."  
   
"Always? You've only brought it up twice," Peggy said.  
   
"And you defended him both times."  
   
Perhaps she had been a little quick to jump to his defense, but it truly was no more than he deserved. Despite what Angie thought, it didn't mean there was anything else going on. And even if there had been, it couldn't go anywhere. That, she decided, was the point to make. "Angie, the SSR is no more likely than any other organization to allow a married woman to keep working there."  
   
"Who said anything about marriage? I was just thinking you two could have a good time."  
   
"Even dating a fellow agent would be a problem. No one would take me seriously if they knew."  
   
"So don't tell them."  
   
As if it were that simple. "I can't just _hide_ it."  
   
"Why not?" Angie asked practically. "Isn't that what you do?"  
   
A dozen challenges ran through Peggy's head. And yes, she could probably come up with solutions for all of them, but did she really want to live that way again? "I don't--" Peggy began, and then stopped as the phone rang. "Excuse me a moment." She stood up to answer it, and then returned to the table. "I have to go back to work."  
   
"You've barely touched your food!"  
   
"It's important," Peggy said, already reaching for her hat. She headed back to headquarters buzzing with excitement.  
   
***  
   
"You've all heard by now that we have a lead," Thompson said. "Apparently Holland's message didn't make it through to one of his people. Thanks to the intel collected by Sousa and Carter, we were able to pick him up, and he gave us the time and location of a meeting that he assures us Holland will not miss. When Holland gets there, we are going to be waiting." He paused, looking stern. "In case anyone's forgotten, we still need evidence. That means we don't arrest Holland until _after_ the meeting, and only if he actually does something incriminating. Otherwise, we're back to where we started. Understand?"  
   
There were nods around the room.  
   
"Sousa, you're back in the game. I want you on site. Peggy, you can come too. Just stay out of the way."  
   
"Of course," Peggy said as Sousa rolled his eyes outside of Thompson's sight.

They gathered at the site--an abandoned warehouse--a few hours before the meet was scheduled.  
   
"It's going to be hard for us to hide here," Sousa observed, looking around the empty streets.  
   
"There's no way to pass as bystanders, so we're going to have to stay out of sight," Thompson agreed. "I want all possible exit routes covered, and at least two guys inside with cameras. We need to nail this down if it's going to hold in court. Peggy, you head back and wait in the car."  
   
"We're parked nearly four blocks from the warehouse," she protested.  
   
"Exactly," Thompson said.  
   
She walked back toward the car until she was sure Thompson couldn't see her, then turned and circled back toward the exit route she thought Holland was most likely to take. Making sure she was out of the sight of the agents sent to watch the route, she settled in to wait, radio in hand.  
   
Two hours later, the radio crackled to life. "Unknown subject coming in," said a low voice. Regular reports followed. The subject entered the warehouse. Twenty minutes later, Holland showed up and followed suit. There were no reports from inside the warehouse, but it seemed likely that a meeting was taking place and being photographed. The radio came to life again. Holland was leaving. He was heading for his car. 

And then it all went to hell.  
   
"Wallace! Sousa! Report, dammit," Thompson yelled, running toward the exit route Holland had taken, almost entirely opposite from where Peggy had positioned herself. She'd already realized her mistake and was heading toward Wallace and Sousa's location, still trying to keep out of sight, but ready to intervene if needed.  
   
"Wallace is down," came the reply from Sousa. "Holland hit him with his car. I'm in pursuit." 

"In pursuit with what?" Thompson asked.

Up ahead, there was the sound of gunshots. 

"Sousa!" Thompson yelled.

Peggy sped up, taking the main roads, no longer caring who saw her.

The radio came to life again. "I've disabled his car," came the terse reply. "Holland's armed. He--" Gunshots sounded again, followed by silence.  
   
A block of ice formed in Peggy's stomach as she ran. Why hadn't she stayed with the cars? She could have driven over faster than she was moving now. What if she was too late? She put on a burst of speed. She would not be too late. She refused to be too late.  
   
She rounded the corner with her gun drawn, and then skidded to a stop, surveying the scene. Sousa was standing, holding his gun, with Holland sprawled in front of him. Sousa looked up at her, eyes wide and hands trembling, and Peggy couldn't remember the last time she'd seen such a beautiful sight. Realization dawned bright and clear, and she was sure he could see every bit of it. 

She holstered her own gun, and walked over to him, relief running through her. "Don't scare me like that again," she said, and stepped up to kiss him.

She could feel him freeze for a moment, going still beneath her hands, and then he leaned closer and kissed her back, gently at first and then with more passion as she pulled him closer. Behind her, she heard the footsteps of the approaching agents. She pulled back reluctantly, drinking in his face, guarded and hopeful and a little disbelieving.  
  
"We'll talk about it later," she said before he could speak. She turned around as Thompson appeared with two other agents, already formulating excuses for her presence in case Thompson asked. Just don't tell them indeed.  
   
"He pulled on me," Sousa said to Thompson, nodding toward Holland. "I didn't have a choice."  
   
Thompson glanced over at Wallace, who was being helped up by the other two agents. "Looks to me like he got what he deserved."  
   
***  
   
Sousa was waiting for her outside the building when Peggy finally left, still in the clothing she'd worn the day before.  
   
"So are we going to talk about it?" he asked, falling into step beside her. "Or are we going to pretend it never happened? Heat of the moment and all that?"  
   
She'd had most of the night and the following day to come to terms with what she'd realized at the warehouse. A day and a night to think about what she wanted to do about it.

"It wasn't heat of the moment, Daniel," Peggy said, taking care to walk slowly enough that he could keep up without struggling. "Well, perhaps it was, after a fashion, but not the way you mean it."  

The mix of hope and doubt returned to his face. "I thought you said you couldn't afford to be with me."  
   
"I did," Peggy said, "but it turns out I'm too late."  
   
"Too late for what?"  
   
"Too late to avoid falling in love with you. Apparently, it's already happened. Despite my best efforts." She smiled at him, making it clear that she was teasing. Her smile widened when he smiled back.  
   
"I'm just that irresistible, huh?"  
   
"Apparently so."  
   
"And the job?" he asked, serious again. "I know that's important to you."  
   
"I've given that a great deal of thought," Peggy said. "I don't know how you feel about concealing things from the SSR, but--"

"You're saying you want to date and not tell them?"

"I ran a whole investigation into who stole Howard Stark's inventions without anyone from the SSR finding out besides you," Peggy said. "This seems much simpler."

Sousa--Daniel--nodded slowly. "What they don't know can't hurt them."  
   
"Exactly."  
   
He drew in a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "If you can do it, then I guess I can too."

"I'm glad," Peggy said. "What do you say we discuss the details over a drink?"

His smile answering smile was definitely the highlight of her day. "Lead the way," he said.


End file.
